


Fallacy

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 19:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16332413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Spock might be a spy?





	Fallacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lover_of_blue_roses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_blue_roses/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for azoroadaywontkeepsanjiaway’s “#25 Prompt Corruption; Spock/McCoy” request on [my tumblr prompt list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/179060905990/prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Everything’s against him, from the mandatory use of the transporters to the ion storm blocking proper Starfleet transmissions, so it doesn’t surprise him when Uhura calls with the final straw—he’ll be late for the away team because of a broken up message on a secure channel. She politely tells him it’s already rerouted to his office, and he does his best not to curse at her. Then he’s jogging through the halls with a scowl on his face. He already knows when he inevitably shows up last, he’ll face Jim’s teasing, and worse, Spock’s _judgment_.

Spock’s the one with an even bigger stick up his ass than usual lately. Leonard was looking forward to a night away, even if it is on a ridiculously far away new world, seeking membership with the Federation and annoyingly insisting on overnight visits and transporter technology. There’s bound to be something _off_ with the alien planet—there always is—but it should still force Spock to relax more than he will on a busy starship. And he definitely needs to relax. And tell Leonard why he’s been tense as a rock all week. So for once, Leonard actually hopes Starfleet’s not about to keep him aboard.

The computer’s on in his office when he gets there, but it waits for his clearance before it starts scrolling the data across the screen. There is no voiceover, and the words that are there are mangled, more missing than not, the damage through the storm incredibly evident. If it weren’t coded for _Chief Medical Officer eyes only_ , he’d be sending it right back to communications for a legible translation. 

He he skims what he can, catching words and phrases like, ‘suspected inappropriate behaviour,’ ‘dangerous consequences,’ ‘corruption,’ and finally, _‘Spock’_.

Spock’s name is all over the file. Confused, Leonard goes through it again, then a third time, just to be sure, even though his communicator goes off in his pocket and he knows it has to be Jim wondering where he is. As far as he can tell, the file’s warning him, and only him, that Spock’s suspected of _corruption._ And Leonard needs to keep an eye on him. Especially should he leave the ship. Which makes absolutely no sense, because Leonard can’t think of a less corruptible person than his Vulcan partner.

Granted, huge chunks of the file are unreadable. Clearly, he’s missing something. He has to be. Even if he wasn’t, why would Starfleet warn a doctor about a suspected spy, rather than security? Or do they think Spock’s somehow been tampered with, and some sort of medical checkup could catch and possibly reverse it? Or do they somehow know that he’s hooked up with the hobgoblin and want a boyfriend’s perspective?

His communicator buzzes again. Dazed and lost, Leonard flicks off his console and heads out of sickbay.

* * *

Predictably, Jim ribs him about being late. Spock says nothing, standing stiff as a statue atop the transporter pad, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. Leonard has to begrudgingly admit that some of Spock’s recent behaviour _could_ be explained with the stress of spy-work, but he still doesn’t believe it. Jim doesn’t seem to notice. He waits for Leonard to join them on the platform, then tells Scotty, “Energize.”

The ride down is as queasy as usual, even though Spock always insists the transporters produce no physical sensations. Leonard knows better than anyone that Vulcans are just as capable of lies as humans. The three of them coalesce in the green courtyards of Mrennenimus Prime, where the robust queen from the morning’s viewscreen is waiting to meet them. She has one ash coloured attendant on either side of her, and when she sweeps towards the party, the other two slink eerily behind. All three aliens look almost exactly the same to Leonard: half human, half gecko, with big glowing eyes and the sort of teeth he wouldn’t want to get caught in. He looks at them anyway, forcing a polite smile, even though he really wants to turn and stare at Spock until everything makes sense again. 

The monarch chatters away to Jim without any regard for either Spock or Leonard, which is perfectly fine, as she’s talking too fast for Leonard anyway, and Spock doesn’t seem in a listening mood. He’s become the total robot Leonard’s often teased him about. Except stricter and stranger. It makes Leonard wish he had his medical tricorder, but the Mrennenimians didn’t want any foreign non-organic objects on their world, save for clothing—all three of them are bundled up in thick, colourful robes that make the bold Starfleet tunics look positively pastel by comparison.

Spock looks as good in his blue uniform as usual. He doesn’t appear the slightest bit sick, but as Leonard fixates on the handsome figure in his peripherals, he does note that Spock’s chest seems to rise and fall a _tad_ harsher than usual. His breathing might be strained. The Mrennenimian atmosphere seems perfectly fine to Leonard. Jim’s grinning like the proverbial cat, and he snaps Leonard out of the distraction when he chuckles to the queen, “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I don’t think we need nighttime company in our rooms, thank you.”

The queen shrugs it off, though Leonard can feel his cheeks heating at the implications. He glances sideways, fully expecting no reaction from Spock. But Spock’s blushing a brilliant green. Something’s _definitely_ wrong.

“That sounds lovely,” Jim answers, when the queen’s quickly babbled something else. “By all means, let the tour begin.”

* * *

The tour of Mrennenimus’ small, boringly human castle goes on for far too long, with Jim indulgently encouraging it and Leonard occasionally chipping into the conversation. Spock doesn’t say a single word the entire time. The six of them eat colourful cubes together in a relatively normal dining room while servants occasionally pass by through other doors. The cubes look like plastic but taste like chicken, and Spock eats a disturbing amount of them. Maybe Leonard would enjoy them more, and the tour and the planet more, if he weren’t so absorbed in Spock. But he is, so he doesn’t. 

By the time night falls, looking just like night on any other world, Leonard’s at his breaking point. The queen thankfully doesn’t keep them up too long after dark—she escorts Jim to his chambers straight away, while Leonard and Spock are each taken to smaller rooms by the shadow-like attendants. Leonard’s hostess doesn’t speak to him, making Leonard wonder if _anyone_ other than the queen talks on this world. He’d ask Spock, except he has more important questions to try. He doesn’t tell his hostess that he and Spock may as well share the same room; he hasn’t figured out the romantic or sexual taboos yet. 

After she’s left, Leonard spends only a few minutes observing his room. It’s simple enough—it has a bed, a dresser, what must be a bath, and several enormous rocking horses, along with what looks like a shrine to ice cream. If he was paying attention to the conversations during the tour, that would probably make sense. As is, it doesn’t. He’s not curious. He waits a few antsy minutes, toying with his options, before he finally decides what to do. 

He slips out of his room carefully, quietly, even though the darkened hallway’s empty. He doesn’t have to go far. He turns towards Spock’s quarters, ready to sneak in, only to watch as Spock’s door open. Spock himself slips out and immediately turns down the other end of the hall, not even bothering to look back. That isn’t like Spock. A pit drops into Leonard’s stomach.

It would probably be smart to confer with Jim. If he had time, he would. But there’s no time to decide, and he doesn’t want to lose the trail, so he just follows Spock, grateful for how soft and silent the Mrennenimian tiles are underfoot. It also helps that the thin windows don’t let in much light, so it’s easy to stick to shadows. Spock never turns back anyway. 

It’s stupidly awkward to be trailing his own boyfriend. Leonard feels like some unruly teenager or, worse, Jim.

Finally, Spock comes to a halt at the bottom of some spiral stairs, and Leonard waits at the top, squinting down through the blackness. Another figure steps out from behind a pillar, draped in a dark shawl, but his ears and eyes are visible enough—a _Romulan_. Leonard’s heart nearly stops. Of all the people on the ship that would betray them to the Romulans, Leonard would suspect Spock last. But the two of them whisper to one another in what could be either Vulcan or Romulan—they’re talking too quietly and too far away for Leonard to tell. Without the use of a Universal Translator, he’s out of luck. Whatever information they trade doesn’t take long, and when it’s done, both seem satisfied. The Romulan bows his head and disappears back into the ether, while Spock returns to the staircase.

Leonard pauses for a second, just digesting everything, then hurries back. He doesn’t return to his own quarters but Spock’s. None of the doors on Mrennenimus are locked. Leonard goes right to the square-shaped bed and sits on the end, waiting. 

He doesn’t have to wait long before Spock arrives. Spock comes in through the door, shuts it, turns to Leonard, and stops.

Leonard doesn’t have anything to say. He’s still half convinced there’s some proper explanation. There has to be. But without it, he’s... _angry._ He doesn’t _like_ being made to play security, especially when it’s his boyfriend he’s investigating, even more so on foreign ground. This was supposed to be a perfectly peaceful away mission, and for once, it actually would’ve been, if Spock hadn’t gone and... whatever it is he’s done.

Spock takes long, deliberate strides towards the bed, stops just before Leonard, and tells him thickly, “You should not be here.”

“What?” Leonard snaps, because he’s had enough of Spock pushing him away all week. “In my _boyfriend’s_ room?”

Spock frowns deeply. “It is in appropriate—”

“ _You’re_ inappropriate! You’re the one that’s turned traitor! What the hell are you doing with _Romulans_?” Spock blinks as Leonard seethes, boiling over too abruptly because Spock just has a way of pushing all his buttons like that. “You know, I didn’t believe it when I got that garbled transmission from Starfleet about your _corruption_ , even though you’ve been acting guilty as sin, but then you go and confer with some—”

“Vulcan,” Spock interrupts, supposedly correcting Leonard’s assumption. Leonard pauses, and in that space, Spock could explain more, but he doesn’t.

Leonard waits anyway. He’s rewarded when Spock eventually sits down beside him on the bed, posture _finally_ relaxing, at least by Spock standards. 

Spock quietly, slowly admits, “Both my thought process and body chemistry have indeed corroded. I suppose there is a certain logic in notifying the chief medical officer of such a condition, although I would have preferred the Vulcan High Command to leave such information up to my discretion.”

Leonard... doesn’t understand. He says as much: “What?”

Spock casts his eyes away, avoiding Leonard’s, and continues, “That was not a Romulan spy, as you seem to have assumed, but an outcast Vulcan from a particular... group... that is generally frowned upon. When I’d heard a number of them were currently staying on Mrennenimus, I thought they might, perhaps, be more knowledgeable on the problem before me.”

Leonard still doesn’t get it. “What problem?” 

Spock looks at him, as though willing him to understand without words. It doesn’t work. So Spock lets out a little exhale, then leans forward to whisper in Leonard’s ear, “ _Pon farr_.”

He withdraws again. Leonard blankly stares at him. Spock murmurs, “Do not repeat that word. It isn’t spoken of with outsiders, for it is a deeply... personal... issue to Vulcans. It is a... mating instinct... which comes once every seven years. It wrecks havoc on the mind and body unless satisfied. ...But it is also feral and crude to fulfill, and to tell a non-Vulcan of it, let alone to attempt to _appease_ it with a non-Vulcan, is incomprehensible.”

The words _mating instinct_ play over in Leonard’s mind. He does a quick once over of Spock, taking in all the symptoms in a new light—his rigidity, his dilated eyes, his flushed skin and heavy breathing—he’s holding back his interest. Leonard numbly surmises, “You were meeting with a lewd Vulcan to ask what to do with a human partner when it comes to... ‘feral’... mating...?”

Spock nods his head. Leonard’s is swimming. 

That only leaves one question. “What did he say?”

Spock shifts his weight on the mattress. His hand inches across the covers, nudging into Leonard’s. His skin is fever-hot. His black gaze locks on Leonard, and he answers, “To trust them.”

Then he leans forward to brush his lips over Leonard’s, and Leonard kisses him right back, never so grateful to be wrong.


End file.
